So I Need You
by Verdreht
Summary: Damon doesn't need anyone. No matter what, he can take care of himself, because no one else will. After an accident leaves him more than a little worse for wear, though, he might find out he needs someone after all. Damon/Alaric slash
1. Chapter 1

"One of these days, I'm going to learn to say no to you."

Damon turned to Alaric, one eyebrow arched in that smug little smirk that Alaric both loved and hated.

"Not likely. Besides, if it wasn't for me, you'd still be home trudging through bullshit essays on the Revolution or something from a bunch of snot-nosed kids. You _need_ me to make your life interesting."

Alaric resisted the urge to roll his eyes; it would only satisfy Damon's infernal drive to annoy him as much as possible. "The Civil War," he said instead, with patience that could only come from years of teaching pre- and post-pubescent children in a public school. "And they're not 'snot-nosed kids,' they're teenagers."

Damon waved a hand dismissively. "Now you're just arguing semantics. Either way, I'm your best hope for even a moderately entertaining evening. You should be thanking me."

"Oh, I should be _thanking you_ for dragging me away from a perfectly relaxing night in with take-out Chinese and TiVo to the middle of a cemetery on the coldest, rainiest, _shittiest_ night all fall to help you, what—?"

"Save Mystic Falls from a murderous rogue vampire."

"_Right_. This of course being a vast improvement to grading papers and watching recorded television."

"Well, see, as great as all that sounds," Damon said, sauntering a few steps towards Alaric until they were close enough Alaric could smell the lingering scotch on his breath, "there's one thing missing from that plan _imperative_ to a good time. You know what it is?"

Alaric pretended not to notice the proximity, instead letting out a long-suffering sigh. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Smirking, Damon draped his arms over Alaric's shoulders languidly. "Look at you, playing it cool. But since I can see through the mask of sarcasm and disinterest to the _desperate_ curiosity underneath, I guess it's only decent of me to tell you. See, what your other evening was missing," he said, his sweet breath brushing across Alaric's face, his lips only inches from Alaric's, "was me."

Before Alaric could fire of what was sure to be a witty, biting retort – trust him, really – Damon sealed their lips together. And just when Alaric got his arms around the smaller man's hips, ready to make the most of this supposedly-fortunate change of plans—

A throat cleared.

Alaric broke the kiss, and Damon let out a curse under his breath before donning a smile and turning around to face the newcomers.

Stefan, Elena, and Bonnie were standing just a few meters away at the entrance to the graveyard, all with various expressions. Stefan looked exasperated, Elena looked a little bit embarrassed, and Bonnie just looked amused.

Damon, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed.

"Funny, I was just asking Ric where the cock-block cadets had gotten off to. Wasn't I, Ric?"

Alaric put a hand on Damon's shoulder, not _quite_ restrictively, just enough to tell him to tone it back. "Damon, play nice."

Damon glanced back at him, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Mother," he said, before turning back to the others and shrugging. "Spoilsports. All of you. Just…_suck_ the fun right out of everything." He turned back to Alaric. "Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

"A fun-sucking vampire? Really, Damon?"

"Yeah, not my best work. But hey, the scene isn't exactly inspirational."

"Right, it's the scene," said Stefan. "Come on, he's not here. We'll check back in town, see if he's circled back."

Damon arched an eyebrow. "Having a little trouble with your compass there?" At Stefan's dark look, Damon raised his hands innocently. "Hey, relax. It happens to everyone. Well, not me, obviously, but you know – everyone else."

Leaning in towards Elena, Bonnie cupped her hand over her mouth. "I thought you said Mr. Saltzman was a good influence on him," she said.

"Hey, Broom-hilda, we can hear you," Damon said in a mock whisper, and then snorted. "And good influence? _This guy_? Let me tell you something about this guy. He—"

"Murderous rogue vampire, remember?" Alaric said. "And I still have papers to grade, so if we could hurry this up…" He gestured vaguely, and then he started towards the gate. His way of saying that it was time to go, apparently.

Damon lingered for just a few seconds, staring after Alaric and the others as they retreated. Sighing, he rolled his eyes.

"Spoilsports."


	2. Chapter 2

"Stop the car!"

Not that Alaric had much choice. They were just about to pull out of the cemetery drive when Damon grabbed the emergency brake, effectively stopping the car in its tracks and nearly snapping everyone's necks in the process.

Whiplash was a bitch.

Elena shoved Damon's shoulder from the backseat. "What was that?"

Damon didn't see fit to answer her, though; he was already getting out of the car, and had it not been for Alaric nearly lunging across the middle console, he would've been long gone before anyone could get hold of him.

"What are you doing?" Alaric's tone was calm, but there was a sharpness to it that couldn't be missed. He knew Damon, knew that look in his eyes and that set of his jaws: Damon had seen something.

Damon wrenched his wrist away. "Stay here and shut off the car. No lights, no sounds."

"Damon, whatever you're thinking—"

Raising a hand, Damon cut Stefan off mid-warning. "I get you have a hero complex, and you want to look good in front of your girlfriend, but unless I'm mistaken – which I'm not – those headlights up there belong to a certain sheriff. Since I'm pretty sure none of _you_ want to get on her radar, it's best if you sit tight and let daddy handle it."

"Daddy?" Alaric said, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"A simple 'thank you' will suffice. Now," he drew his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion, and with one last salute, he slammed the door and took off running.

"Wait." Everyone turned to see Bonnie looking confused in the backseat. "What just happened?"

"Let me see," said Elena. "Damon just ran off to do his own thing, leaving us here sitting like idiots because he said to. That everything?"

Stefan gave a single exasperated nod, complete with long-suffering sigh. "Just about covers it, yeah."

Bonnie forced a smile. "Great. I feel _so_ much better now that's cleared up," she said. "So, what do we do now?"

She'd no sooner asked than a scream ripped through the air around them.

"What was that?" Elena said.

But there was no one there to answer her. Stefan and Alaric had both taken off towards the sound, Damon's instructions be damned.

They were too late.

The first thing Alaric saw when they made it to the road was the Sheriff. She was slumped against a tree at the edge of the brush they'd just emerged from on the side of the road. The way her head lolled limply to the side would've been enough to tell Alaric that she was unconscious, even if he couldn't see the trickle of blood from her temple reflecting in the headlights of the cop car.

It was chaos.

There were lights flashing everywhere. Red. Blue. White. Lighting up the place, and then flashing out so that only the dim streetlight kept them all from darkness. A siren was blaring in his ears, and it was almost impossible to think through it all.

But then he heard it. Screaming, and this time, not the Sheriff's. More masculine, more…pained. No. Agonized.

"Damon."

Nothing else mattered, then. Not the rain beating down like needles on his face, not the thunder and lightning rolling and cracking…

Not the body of the dead vampire he had to jump over, just to reach the huddled form on the road just in front of the cop car.

The screaming got louder as Alaric dropped to his knees next to Damon. He was curled up on his knees, his head in his hands. There was steam rising from between them, and looking around, Alaric could see broken shards of glass in the rain pooling on the concrete.

Another scream startled him into action, and he quickly reached around the curled up form and grabbed his wrists.

"It's okay," he said as Damon screamed and fought against him. Somehow, though, even though Damon tried to stay curled up, he was able to get him pulled back against his chest, his hands held away from his face. "Damon, what happened? What's wrong?"

"It's in my eyes!" The cry was feral, filled with such intense pain that it made Alaric feel sick. "It's in my—burning, and I can't—" Another choked sound, half between a snarl and a sob caught his words in his throat.

"Vervain," said Stefan as he knelt in front of Damon. He didn't touch him, Alaric noticed. He couldn't – not unless he wanted to feel the same burn as Damon was feeling now. "I think the sheriff tried to get the vampire with it and got him instead."

The nausea grew. Vervain. That stupid _bitch_ had doused him in vervain. It was in his eyes: that was why he was screaming. He'd seen the pain it could cause when it touched their skin; he was seeing it now. He couldn't imagine, though, what this had to feel like.

Damon was scared; he could hear it in his voice, but more than that, Alaric could _feel_ it. He was scared, and he was in so much pain.

It was all Alaric could do to keep it together, but he forced himself to. For Damon. He had to keep his head together and get Damon somewhere safe, preferably before the sheriff got there.

"Okay," he said, and turned to where Bonnie and Elena were standing a few feet away. "Bonnie, go to my truck. There's a bottle of water there – get it for me, and bring it back as fast as you can." Bonnie must've sensed the urgency in his voice, because she didn't even bother nodding before she took off back towards the SUV. Alaric didn't care to watch her go; in fact, he hardly paused in his litany of orders. "Elena, you and Bonnie are going to stay here, call the police. Stefan will take care of the body and make sure you're safe, and when the Sheriff comes around, make sure she didn't see anything."

"Where will you be?" Stefan said.

"I'm going to take him back to the boarding house. Try and clean him up and see what I can do for him."

Bonnie came running over right about then, bottle of water in hand. "Here," she said, twisting off the cap and holding it out for him.

"Hang on." Alaric hadn't really thought about how this was going to work, but something told him he was going to need a free hand. However, it was a lot easier than he'd thought it would be trying to get that worked out. Granted, the way Damon was pulling and twisting, trying to curl back up again – it made it hard for Alaric to keep a hold on him. But he wasn't super-human strong, what with the vervain coursing through his system, and he managed to get one arm around both of Damon's wrists, pinning the vampire's arms to his chest with his elbow while he used the hand of the same arm to hold his chin firm. With Damon's hands restrained and his head tilted back against his shoulder, Alaric took the now-open bottle of water.

"Hold still, okay, Damon? I'm gonna try and wash your eyes out, but I need you to try to open them for me."

But Damon was hardly listening. He had his eyes tightly squeezed, and he kept tossing his head trying to get out of Alaric's hold. "Fuck," he said through gritted teeth. His chest heaved with strained pants, like he couldn't catch his breath. "It—"

"Shh, I know it hurts. I know, and I'm trying to help. Just try to open your eyes."

As soon as Alaric saw the first sliver of white, he tipped the bottle so that some of the clean water splashed onto Damon's drenched, too-red face.

He knew the instant some of it hit Damon's eyes, because the wounded vampire hissed out a yelp and tried to jerk his head back.

Alaric wasn't having it, though. He needed to get that shit out of Damon's eyes – who knew what damage it could do? Short- and long-term. So, he let up on Damon's arms and instead devoted his whole attention to getting at Damon's eyes. He pulled Damon's head down, holding him in a sort of headlock with Damon's chin in the crook of his elbow. The vampire tried to grab at his arm, trying to pry it loose, but he couldn't quite get him loose.

With his newly-freed hand, he put a finger on each of Damon's cheekbones and pulled them down so that the whites of Damon's eyes were exposed again.

Damon kicked and twisted as Alaric poured more of the water into his burning eyes, screaming curses and clawing. His teeth extended to points and the veins around his eyes jutted as his instincts took over. Fight or flight, or apparently any combination of the two he thought he could manage.

"Easy," Alaric said, ignoring the painful bite of Damon's fingers into the skin of his arm. Bruises would heal; the real pain was seeing the man he'd (reluctantly) grown to love in so much pain. And finally, when the bottle was empty and he'd done all he could, he took his hand from Damon's face and devoted both arms to just holding him. "Okay, it's over. It's over."

"Not any better." The words were ground out through hard breaths and gritted teeth, and Damon's grip on his arm didn't loosen much if any. "It's not getting better."

The fear, barely concealed beneath a terse aggravation, cut at Alaric like knives in his chest, and he held Damon tighter. "But at least it won't get any worse. Now, come on. We need to go."

"Can he walk?" Elena said. She looked dubious.

Alaric didn't blame her. Even if Damon could get on his feet, with the vervain not only weakening him, but disorienting him, he probably wouldn't be able to stay on them. At least not long enough to make it to the car.

He had another idea. Freeing up an arm from Damon's vice grip, he slipped it under the man's knees and lifted him off the wet pavement.

He hadn't been expecting him to cry out. Hadn't expected him to tense and then just go limp, unconscious in Alaric's arms.

Alaric guessed he should know better. With Damon, you always expected the unexpected.

He just hoped he wasn't due anymore surprises.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hang on, Damon. We're almost there."

Alaric's arms were on fire from the lactic acid building in them. Damon was lighter than he looked – lighter than he should've been – but Alaric had carried him all the way from the car inside and up the stairs to Damon's room.

Damon hadn't regained consciousness since he'd blacked out on the road, though he'd stirred a few times. Soft groans whenever Alaric accidentally jarred him just so, little shifts and twitches like he was flinching in his sleep.

It wasn't until he got him in the bathtub in the corner, stripped down to his blue jeans, that he started to come around. Just a little shifting at first, and Alaric ignored it. He needed to wash the rest of the vervain off Damon before it got any worse. The skin of his face, especially around his eyes, the skin of his neck and shoulders, and a bit of his chest and belly were a bright, angry red and getting redder by the moment.

As soon as he turned the shower on, though, Damon woke up.

…and promptly flipped his shit.

"Hey, hey." Alaric grabbed Damon before he could jump out of the tub, pushing him back down onto his back. He started to hold him to it, but Damon let out a cry when he put a hand on his shoulder. Alaric quickly jerked his hand back, and his eyes fell to a mass of blue-green blotches and swelling around Damon's shoulder. Four long gashes ran from the top of it, and in his head, Alaric matched the marks to fingers.

He felt his stomach give another twist, and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to hold the nausea at bay.

"Christ, Damon, you – no, you don't." Alaric grabbed Damon again as he made another lunge, but this time, instead of trying to hold Damon to the bottom of the tub, he pulled him against the side of it, wrapping an arm around Damon's thin shoulder carefully in a sort of half-hug. Damon tried to get out of it, to get out from under the spray of cold water still cascading over his head and shoulders, but all of his movements were weak and sluggish from the vervain.

He made a noble effort, though. He kicked and writhed and twisted and pulled at Alaric's arm barred across his chest, his bare feet squealing on the bathtub linoleum. It just wasn't enough.

Alaric watched him squint his too-red eyes trying to see, watched the tendons on his neck stand out as he ground his teeth from the pain and the anger. Damon hated being helpless, hated being weak, and he was struggling against it with all he had.

"Moving only makes it worse," Alaric said, holding fast. Damon had told him once what it felt like, that poison running through his veins: all his muscles tearing apart, all his nerves burning, all his bones grinding.

Damon kept struggling, though. His fingers dug into his temples, and sharp, keening snarls broke from his lips.

"Damon? Damon, hey! Don't fight me!"

"I can't—can't see." He was blinking furiously, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, getting more and more agitated by the second. "It fucking burns."

"I know, I know," Alaric said, pulling Damon's hands away from his eyes and pulling him closer. "Just listen to my voice. You're okay, just listen to my voice."

But he wasn't quite ready to calm down just yet. "That bitch," he said, agony hidden beneath seething _fury_. Aggression was Damon's favorite crutch, his favorite safety blanket to hide under. "I'll rip her apart next time I—"

"Damon, _listen_ to me!" His tone was firmer this time, sharper, and it worked. Damon gave a few more half-hearted kicks, and then he just…stopped. Like the fight had left him, like he was just too tired to keep on. "Good," Alaric said. "This is good. Just calm down."

"Ric, what—" Damon tried again to open his eyes, only to hiss and turn his head in towards the crook of Alaric's neck where the light wasn't so bright and offensive to his abused eyes. "What the hell?"

Alaric frowned at the sound of his voice, muffled as it was against his skin. He was hurting, and even through the usual Damon bite, Alaric could hear how miserable and confused and, damn it, _upset_ he really was.

"I'm sorry," Alaric said. "I had to wash the vervain off of you. Whatever Forbes doused you with wasn't coming off on its own."

"The w-water." Damon was shivering. Honest to God, teeth-chattering, whole-body-wracking _shivering_. "It's freezing."

"Hot water would've made it burn more," Alaric said, but pulled Damon a little closer all the same. "Just give it a little longer. Make sure you're clean."

Damon let out a grown, and Alaric could feel his brows furrowing against his neck. "Bastard," he said.

"Yeah, I'm a bastard." Alaric pressed a kiss to Damon's wet hair, then brushed his fingers through the same spot. But I'm a bastard kneeling under cold water trying to wash poison off you, so that's got to count for something."

"It won't help," Damon said through gritted teeth, furrowing his face deeper into the crook of Alaric's neck. Alaric might've been nervous, having the teeth of a distraught vampire that close to his jugular. But Damon wouldn't do that, not to Alaric, not anymore. Besides, if he did, he'd get a mouthful of vervain, and neither of them wanted that. "It's already in—" he stopped short, his body seizing up and a choked groan breaking from his lips, "—in my blood."

Another wave of pain brought another spasm, and Alaric held him through it. "It'll pass," he said, and as carefully as he could, he reached over and turned off the water, grabbing a towel from the rack by the shower. "Here." He pulled the towel around Damon, careful not to drag it across his injured shoulder. "Can you stand?"

Damon huffed, his breath blowing across Alaric's neck. "Why not?"

"I'm serious, Damon. If you can't—"

"I'm fine." Damon started to push himself up, only to grimace when it tweaked his bad shoulder. "Shit."

Alaric scowled. "You're not fine," he said, and started to pick Damon up again.

"What're you doing?" And even shivering, bleeding, half-blind and violently ill, Damon actually managed to sound annoyed.

"I'm—" Lift. Adjust. Walk. "—carrying you to your room to get you in bed."

Damon let out a chuckle that barely even registered and leaned his head over on Alaric's shoulder. Now Alaric _knew_ he was tired. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Oh yeah?" Alaric couldn't help laughing to himself, though it didn't quite make it outside. "Wait until I start getting you out of these jeans."

"Kinky."

"You're impossible."

"Yet oddly lovable."

Alaric smiled at that, pressing a quick kiss to Damon's temple. "Lucky for you. Alright, here, easy." As gentle as Alaric tried to be, though, Damon still groaned in pain when Alaric laid him on his bed. It didn't get better as he slid his jeans and briefs off his slender hips; any movement seemed to hurt, and Alaric was relieved when he finally had the soggy clothes off of him. He eased him back so that he was lying against the pillows and pulled the blanket up over his bare hips and torso, his hand lingering on Damon's chest as it heaved to pull in sharp breaths. "You're okay," he said, his thumb brushing what he hoped was a soothing pattern over Damon's collarbone. "You're okay."

_Snap_.

A scream ripped from Damon's throat as, with a sharp jerk, Alaric popped his shoulder back in place. The vampire sprang up, his scream becoming a snarl as his teeth sharpened to points and his red, raw eyes darkened. Alaric caught him before he could go any farther, pulling him forcibly into his arms and holding him there.

"I'm sorry," he said, half-trapping, half-cradling Damon's head against his shoulder. Damon was still screaming into his shoulder, and even though the sound was muffled, it was still the worst sound Alaric had ever heard. For Damon to scream like that, he had to be in real pain, and knowing he'd had a hand in it made Alaric's stomach roll. "I'm sorry, I had to. You can relax; it's over." The scratches could wait; Damon had been through enough that night.

Brushing his thumb along the nape of Damon's neck, he just held him as some of the tension finally began to ebb. "Hurts," Damon said after a long moment. It was barely more than a mumble, quiet enough to make Alaric wonder if he'd even meant to say it. "It hurts."

"I know, Damon." Reaching down, he pulled the covers up from where they had fallen and wrapped them around Damon's slim shoulders. The shivering had finally started to ease, especially once Alaric tossed his own wet shirt to join Damon's jeans on the floor. As he laid down, he pulled Damon to him and tried not to wince at the unusual heat of Damon's face as he buried it in Alaric's chest. The vervain…his eyes.

"Stay—" Damon swallowed. Shifted. Winced. "Stay here…just a bit, 'cause I—" he tried to move, tensed, and let out a muted groan as he realized it was a bad idea. It took him a couple seconds to get his breath back, but then, "—cause it turns out…I need you, too."

Alaric felt his chest swell, felt his heart beat faster. Gently, soothingly, _lovingly_, he brushed his fingers through his lover's still-wet black hair and pressed a kiss to his brow.

"I know."


End file.
